


The Strange Company We Keep

by irishfino



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishfino/pseuds/irishfino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eobard Thawne travels to the past to kill a young Barry Allen, but instead of putting on a Harrison Wells suit, he decides to spare the man's life.</p><p>What follows is a drastically changed timeline featuring Eobard Thawne as Norman Thomas, becoming friends and business partners with Harrison Wells.</p><p>When the Particle Accelerator explodes and the Flash is born, strange things begin to happen at S.T.A.R. Labs and in Central City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harrison Wells

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea how long this fic will end up being, but let's do this!

                Harrison Wells wanted to change the world. Perhaps he was young and naïve in those days, but he was sure he could do it all with Tess by his side. Then it happened.

                Tess.

                God Tess.

                They had just left the beach. It had been a lovely day. Wine, warmth, and great company went a long way. Tess had come up with the name S.T.A.R. Labs, short for Scientific and Technological Advanced Research Laboratories.

                Then she was gone. Just like that. An accident. Some fucked up person tarred nails to the road. Actually tarred nails to the road they just so happened to be traveling. What sort of fucked up man, woman, or child could do something so horrid, so life-changing.

                Tess.

                Her name haunted him to this day. He’d been uninjured enough to crawl out of the wreckage or he was just in shock enough not to feel the pain. The glass from the broken windows sliced into the palms of his hands, the blood dripping and pooling until little shiny rubies formed. He kept crawling until he reached the passenger side and his beloved Tess.

                “Tess,” he called. “Tess, please.”

                He caught sight of a shadow moving into his line of sight. He might have heard them if his ears hadn’t been singing a cacophony of metallic horror.

                “Oh, thank god,” he cried. “Please help us!”

                He leaned against the cool metal of the wreckage as adrenaline wore off and fire began to spread across his body. He didn’t like pain, he didn’t know a person who did, at least not one who admitted it to him. The physical pain was nothing compared to the whirlwind of panicked thoughts spiraling and spiraling until he became so dizzy he vomited.

                “Please help,” he whispered to no one in particular.

                Help came. He wasn’t a religious man, but whoever the shadow was finally moved closer and began helping him. He nearly cried, from both his injuries and the feeling of hope bubbling in his dizzy mind.

                “You’re a hero,” he muttered to his rescuer.

                “I’m just a normal guy,” replied the man.

                “Norman?”

                “Uh, yes. My name is Norman.”

                He remembered thanking Norman and little else until he woke up in the hospital to the sound of monitors beeping and a distinct soreness he hadn’t felt since he quit boxing. He learned on this damn bed that his Tess was dead. Gone. His life. Their life. Their future. _Together_. Gone. Just like that. He sobbed. He continued sobbing even after a nurse put an oxygen mask on him. He sobbed until his ribs burned. He sobbed until he could barely breathe. He sobbed until he fell into an exhausted sleep. And Tess haunted him. Her smile. Her laugh. Her scent. The way she welcomed him when they made love. The crease in her brow when she was angry with him. Her knowing glances. He woke up sobbing, but he did not wake up alone.

                “Hello,” came a voice. He recognized it, though it was much less tinny than the first time he heard it.

                “Norman?” he rasped.

                “Yes, Norman Thomas.”

                Harrison debated opening his eyes. Perhaps he was still dreaming. If he just focused hard enough he could get back to sleep. Get back to Tess.

                “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your wife,” Norman said. He sounded sincere.

                Harrison nearly started sobbing again. Finally, he opened his bloodshot eyes and carefully turned his head enough to see his rescuer. His savior. The blonde man sitting in the chair next to the window was very normal looking. Perhaps that’s why his parents named him Norman.

                Blue eyes examined him carefully before the man spoke again.

                “I probably shouldn’t have been, but I’ve visited you at least one a day to see if you would wake up. It’s guilt, I think,” he said.

                “How long?” Harrison managed to force out.

                “Three months. Comas are unpredictable. They had you sedated for a while. Obviously, I could not be privy to much as I’m neither your doctor nor family, but I gleaned what I could.”

                A little creepy. Anger boiled deep in his gut. “Is your guilt assuaged, now? Are you done?”

                “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Norman stood and put his hands in his pockets. “I won’t come back. I’m glad you’re awake. I wish you well. Truly.”

                Norman made to leave, but Harrison just couldn’t let him leave. It wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of whoever tarred those goddamn nails to the fucking road. He tried to help them. He really did. He managed to get help for Harrison in time, but not Tess.

                Tess.

                “Wait,” he rasped. Norman waited, his back turned away from Harrison. “This is – this is hard. Please don’t – don’t leave me alone here.”

                Norman turned and smiled a strangely perfect smile.

                “I’m glad you feel that way.”

                And so started a very strange friendship.


	2. Eobard Thawne/Norman Thomas

                Eobard hated this era. It would be _years_ before the Flash was even around to get him back home. Home. It was definitely where his heart was. His wife, his kids, even part of his hatred for the Flash was back home. He was here now, stuck in the past, walking amongst the dead who swarmed like zombies. None of them knew. None of them could ever know just how dead they were to him. It made killing them so much easier.

                When he spied Harrison and his wife on the beach, he was surprised to see a happy Harrison Wells. The man he had met before, on his previous trip to the past to discover the Flash’s identity, was aged, bitter, and angry. He was also fearless, pointing some sort of giant gun at him as if he weren’t fast enough to dodge whatever may come out of that thing. He was how he learned to make a wormhole to get home. And he would suffer the consequences of time.

                Eobard knew the road they would use to travel home. He used what little Speed Force he had access to and phased the nails right into the road. Too easy. Everything was far too easy. He let Tess die. She was already dead, who cared? He needed Wells and only Wells. Collateral damage was to be expected. He did not expect the sobbing wreck he’d created. He should’ve stolen his body. He still could. Become Harrison Wells and end this farce of an existence. He didn’t. He didn’t try to justify why he didn’t become Harrison Wells, he never bothered to think on it until he sat by that man’s bed and watched him every day for three months. He certainly could have killed Wells. He debated with himself every day on the whys and the hows of killing Wells in his hospital bed. He questioned why he spared him in the first place. In the minutes he’d watched Harrison crawl on hand and knee to get to his wife, he realized that he and Harrison weren’t much different from one another. They were both determined to right the chaos that befell them, both had a loving wife, and both were scientists by nature. He was now sentimental over a dead man. First rule of time travelling: don’t get attached, everyone’s dead. He’d work on that later. For now, he had bigger fish to fry.

                After Harrison’s release from the hospital, the now wheelchair bound man made it his life’s mission to get S.T.A.R. Labs up and running in short order. Eobard helped him put feelers out in the scientific community and sort through applications. It was banal work. It made the days pass faster. Soon, sooner than ever, the Flash would be born and he could go back home to his time and reunite with his family. Soon.


	3. Harrison Wells

Harrison Wells

 

                Doctors told him the nerve damage was incomplete. If he had waited in the car for rescue it may have been avoided entirely and if he hadn’t crawled to the other side of the wreck, he would have avoided injuring himself further. He told the doctor to shut up. That was his wife dying right in front of him. His _wife_. He would have _died_ for her, but fate decided to torture him instead. The doctor gave him that pitying look others had given him. The look of “that poor, poor man.” He hated that look. He didn’t want pity. He wanted to get out of this place, get home, and get to work on S.T.A.R. Labs funding and staffing.

                He started physical therapy the day he left the hospital. It was hell. When his legs worked, they made him walk holding himself up between two poles. When his legs decided they, in fact, had had enough torture for the week, he’d work on his upper body exercises to prepare him for everyday life by himself. As if he needed to be reminded that he was alone. He vacillated between wishing for death and taking on the entire world in a fist fight. Doctors told him it was normal. He told them all to fuck off.

                The day they broke ground on S.T.A.R. Labs was the happiest day he’d had since the hours before Tess’ death. Norm was there with him. It was only fair to include the man who had changed so much about his life. Norm had helped organize funding for zoning, the initial construction, employees, construction workers, and everything else he could think of. He was always one step ahead of Harrison when it came to ideas and getting S.T.A.R. Labs off the ground. It was wonderful working with someone so competent.

                The day they cut the ribbon, Harrison wore a black suit with a white button down. He didn’t bother with a tie because, well, he couldn’t be bothered. Norm drove them to the ceremony in what Harrison hoped would be the first in a fleet of S.T.A.R. Labs vans.

                Today he chose his motorized chair and he was glad he had as he puttered up the flattened, but unpaved path to the construction gate.

                “Should’ve had the path made,” Norm said lightly as he kept pace at Harrison’s side.

                “Ha ha,” Harrison replied sarcastically.

                “There was no joke there.”

                Harrison hit a small piece of gravel and grunted. “There’s a path, but it’s not smooth.”

                “I should have said made it out of concrete.”

                “Somewhat smoother.”

                “Yes.”

                Harrison stopped suddenly. Norman stopped half a step ahead. Less than a hundred feet away awaited a crowd of journalists, scientists, doctors, and your every day average joe.

                “Norm,” he said, “I want you to cut the ribbon with me.”

                Norm appeared to consider this before replying, “Alright, Harrison. I will.”

                Harrison smiled before pushing forward. Today was the day the future began. Tomorrow, the real hard work would begin.


	4. Eobard Thawne/Norman Thomas

                Don’t get attached. That was the one rule, the one rule he needed to follow. He broke it. He broke it for a dead man. This man was dead. He was a corpse. He was the past. He was not the future. And, yet, Eobard still found himself fond of this man. He hated him for it. Still, he enjoyed Harrison’s company. Harrison was leagues ahead of so many of the people in this time he made for pleasant, mostly non-annoying company. They argued, of course. They were men of science and scientists not butting heads with one another were scientists not trying to prove the other wrong. And that seemed wrong. Harrison usually relented. It took him a few weeks, but, in the end, he always made the right decision. Except right this moment.

                “I’m not letting a bunch of schoolchildren run amok in my lab,” Harrison said sternly.

                They were in his office on the ground floor. It was a large office toned in creams and accented with silver and gold. Eobard sat in one of the two tan chairs across from Harrison’s desk, his right ankle resting over his left knee and his hands tented over his right knee. He put on his best neutral face and waited for Harrison’s glare to let up. It didn’t for a full minute.

                “They won’t be ‘running amok’ and there won’t be that many of them. A small group of five to eight. Those who are truly interested in a future in science,” he said gently.

                “Don’t patronize me,” Harrison bit out.

                “I’m not trying to. You’ll know when I am.”

                “Very funny, Norman,” Harrison replied dryly.

                “Mm.”

                “We’ve worked together years now. Built this place from the ground up. Why do you now want children to visit?”

                “The future. Children are the future.”

                Harrison barked a short laugh. “That claptrap nonsense bullshit.”

                “You’re repeating yourself.”

                “To emphasize how stupid what you’re saying is.”

                Eobard leaned back in his chair. Harrison was being quite stubborn on this one, small issue that, if he took the time to think on, he would realize it was a non-issue. Besides, what better way to capture the imagination of one boring little boy named Barry Allen than to get him to sign up for a field trip.

                “Just do it, Harrison,” Eobard said.

                “No,” Harrison bit out stubbornly, “I will not ‘just do it.’ Kids are a pain in the ass and they touch things with their grubby little hands.”

                “It’s not like I’m asking you to let him into the prototype lab.”

                “No is my final answer.”

                “You’ve said that before.”

                “Over experiments which later research proves your initial point, yes, but not this. No children in my labs, not even in my lobby.”

                “Very well,” Eobard replied lightly. Harrison hated that tone. The tone of victory.

                “No,” Harrison said firmly.

                “I have accepted that.”

                “Good, now get out. I have interns to yell at.”

                Surprisingly, Harrison did not change his mind on this matter. Not surprisingly, he wouldn’t tell the man he called Norman why. Harrison didn’t mind the small tour groups consisting of teenagers, usually high school seniors or the groups of college students, both graduate and undergraduate, but on children he would not budge. He needed to get Barry Allen here, somehow, without it looking like he targeted that particular child. It would raise questions he wouldn’t answer and he could lose everything before he had barely begun. Then it hit him: that little shit liked science fairs. He’d watch Barry place and win a few science fairs at his elementary school. Perhaps he could convince Harrison to hold a science fair at the convention center downtown. It was the best of both worlds: no children in his labs and there was a high chance Barry Allen would be there. He brought his idea to Harrison three weeks after their argument. Three weeks was the minimum wait time to reintroduce an idea to Harrison. Ridiculous man.

                “Why would I judge a science fair?” Harrison asked.

                They were in Harrison’s private lab as the man poured over designs and ideas for a new motorized wheelchair. If he did it right, he could control every screen in the building, the security system, the doors, the elevators, anything. Eobard would ensure that his own security wasn’t tampered with, but he would allow Harrison access to everything else.

                “Why not?” Eobard replied.

                “It’s a waste of my time and talents,” Harrison scoffed.

                “This is the _future_ we’re talking about, Harrison. You must ignite the spark of genius in the developing minds of the next generation or everything we’ve started at S.T.A.R. Labs ends with the death of the last staff member. Or senility.”

                Harrison sighed. “Alright, alright. You wore me down. Set it up, if you haven’t already.”

                “Oh, I hadn’t. I know how you can get.”

                “Very funny, Norm.”

                Eobard chuckled. “I'll schedule it for ten weeks from this Saturday. Plenty of time for entries and ideas to flourish.”

                “Mm.”

                “In the meantime, would you like help with your design?”

                “Two heads are better than one.”

                “They certainly are more than one,” Eobard replied.

                Harrison laughed. “You’re a cutup, Norm.” He uncapped a nearby pen and offered it to Eobard. “A regular cutup.”

                “A good thing to have around a serious lab.”

                “Indeed, my friend. Indeed.”


	5. Harrison Wells

                Harrison noticed Norm’s slip immediately. _“It’s not like I’m asking you to let him into the prototype lab.”_ Him. Norm rarely talked of his private life and he wore no wedding ring, but it was possible he was a father to a child that did not know him. Anything was possible with Norm. He was full of surprises. It didn’t matter in the long run. Harrison did not want to get in the middle of whatever was happening in Norman’s personal life. He had his own affairs to worry about, namely visiting Tess’ grave today. Norm usually accompanied him, but he had the distinct feeling Norm had forgotten. It didn’t matter, he was a big boy, he could take care of himself.

                Harrison didn’t mind driving himself. It hadn’t been too difficult to create hand controls for braking and acceleration so that he could drive with confidence. His legs didn’t always cooperate with him, but today he was able to operate the brake pedal of the S.T.A.R. Labs van he’d claimed as his own. He liked being mobile on his own. He enjoyed running errands to the grocery just for the looks he’d get and the whispered comments of “That’s Harrison Wells!” Call it an ego boost, but he loved it. He was quite shameless in his love of attention. Norm often commented on it when they were out together, but Harrison would simply look at him and grin. He loved Norm. He was his best friend, his closest confidant, the only man more instrumental in getting S.T.A.R. Labs off the ground. He owed him everything.

                As Harrison pulled up to the cemetery, his emergency lab line rang in his pocket. He pulled the van into one of the many access roads between the graves and parked.

                “Harrison Wells,” he said before the phone was even to his mouth.

                “Where are you?” came Norm’s voice from the other end. He sounded slightly panicked.

                “Cemetery,” he replied softly.

                “Tess,” Norm said. “I had forgotten.”

                “I never will.”

                “I know.”

                “Is there an emergency?”

                “Nothing that can’t wait until you return.”

                “Norman.”

                “There may be a small group of school children here.”

                “I will kill you and bury you in the woods where no one will find your body,” Harrison replied lightly.

                “Funny.”

                “They better be gone by the time I get back,” he said gruffly.

                “Of course, Harrison.”

                The line clicked off. Harrison snapped his phone shut with an angry grunt. Norm had either planned this or was faster than he thought. Either way, he was going to put a laxative in that man’s chocolate cake.


	6. Eobard Thawne/Norman Thomas

                The small group of children waited in the lobby for their tour guide. Their excitement was palpable. S.T.A.R. Labs was really, really cool. It was probably the coolest place in Central City. They were older children, eleven to twelve, so they didn’t jump around as much, but the air vibrated with their potential energy and questions. Their curious little eyes ate every bit of the lobby area. It was sleek and modern. High vaulted ceilings that probably reached the sky, shiny white flooring, the most comfortable looking plush maybe leather silver chairs, and gadgets on display made the lobby all the more interesting. There were a few exhibits on medical research taking place at the facility, but the thing that made the lobby the best lobby ever was the rather large display of the particle accelerator. The one-one-thousandth scale model was still huge, but it was the obvious centerpiece to the lobby, perhaps even S.T.A.R. Labs. Many fingerprints and face prints would have to be wiped from the glass surrounding the model before Harrison returned from his trip to the cemetery.

                Eobard didn’t mind the children. They were all dead to him. It was like walking through a cemetery of holographic depictions of the deceased. These were more solid, but it didn’t really matter. There was only one child he had an interest in. As he approached the group of giggling, whispering, and moving children complete with one chaperone, he scanned each child’s face. He found Barry Allen standing next to some girl at the accelerator display. How fitting that he should be so mesmerized by the particle accelerator. That glorious accelerator would turn this boring boy into the Flash and then he could get home to his family.

                He signaled to the chaperone that it was time to the tour and watched as the small group of eager children ran up to him and stopped a few feet away. Every child except Barry Allen and his female friend. His plan would have gone off without a hitch had he been able to access the Speed Force as he made his escape, but Barry was the key and screaming at the lock had no effect. It didn’t matter now. His path was set.

                The tour was fairly boring for Eobard. He talked up the research, the scientists, the inventions, but his mind was elsewhere. He needed to light that spark in Barry Allen. He needed to seed the storm cloud obviously brewing in that boy before he veered off course.

                Eobard had been so distracted with trying to see the spark flash in Barry’s eyes that he lost track of time as evidenced by Harrison approaching the group from behind using one of his forearm crutches. He must have been feeling well enough to walk around today. Not that it mattered right this moment, because Harrison was pissed. And a pissed Harrison Wells could ruin his plans.

                “And if you’ll look behind you, you’ll see our owner, CEO, and lead inventor, Dr. Harrison Wells,” Eobard said in his best tour guide voice.

                The children gasped and even the chaperone seemed a little star struck as they turned around. Harrison stood there, his right hand in his pocket and his left resting on the handle of his forearm crutch. He was leaning rather heavily on it, further signaling to Eobard that Harrison had been too impatient for his motorized chair to make the trip down to where the group was.

                “Hello, children,” Harrison said stiffly. He looked at the chaperone. “Ma’am.”

                Eobard had barely registered that the chaperone was human let alone female. He did, however, register the glare Harrison leveled on him.

                “Norman,” Harrison started.

                “My apologies, Dr. Wells,” Eobard rushed. “I started the tour and just couldn’t stop sharing our achievements.”

                “Norman,” Harrison snapped. The children jumped a little.

                “I’m sorry, kids, the tour has now concluded.”

                There were a few groans, a few “Finally”s, and a few thank yous. All-in-all, Eobard felt the tour was a success. Harrison would probably poison him in some manner, but it was a success.

                As the children slowly made their way past Harrison, most giving him a wide berth, the chaperone approached Eobard. Yes, she was most definitely female. She looked like every other walking corpse: remarkably plain.

                “Thank you again for the tour, Mr. Thomas,” she said a bit shyly.

                He narrowed his eyes a little, but smiled pleasantly. “You’re welcome.”

                “I’ve handed out the flyers for the science fair,” she added.

                “That’s great.”

                “I hope to see you there.”

                “Alright.”

                She seemed a little dismayed by his response, but she smiled before turning and leaving the two men in the hallway. When the clacking of her heels was nothing but a memory, Harrison spoke.

                “Norman,” he hissed, “I told you I didn’t want children in this place. What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

                Eobard sighed. He was so dramatic.

                “Don’t sigh at me,” Harrison growled.

                He was very worked up over this. His face was slowly turning red, his jaw was clenched, he even had a vein pulsing on his forehead.

                “I lost track of time.”

                Harrison took a shaky step forward. “You _never_ lose track of time. What are you trying to accomplish here?”

                “I told you, the children –”

                “Are the future!” Harrison cut in angrily.

                “Harrison –” he tried, but Harrison was far too worked up to listen.

                “No! Tell me what you’re trying to do here. There’s some child that you’re interested in. I swear if you’re some sort of fucking disgusting –”

                “No!” Eobard said harshly. He sighed. What lie to tell Harrison? He would hate to kill him so late in the game. “I received a letter about a boy named Barry Allen. His mother was murdered and his father was arrested for murdering her.” The rage in Harrison’s face began to dissipate. Excellent. “He’s been scientifically inclined for many years. He’s won a few small science fairs, all before his mother’s death. The letter was written was the young girl he now lives with. She’s very worried her friend Barry will never recover from his mother’s death as he was there that night. She didn’t want Barry to find out she had written the letter, so I sent a generic invite to his school, specifically requesting his grade level.”

                The tension left Harrison’s body. Eobard watched as the man looked around for a chair, his anger and adrenaline leaving his system. He didn’t wait for Harrison to say anything and he didn’t ask permission to, but he approached the man, grabbed his right arm, and slung it over his shoulders. Harrison let him with no resistance.

                “Come, let’s get you to your office,” Eobard said.

                “You could have explained earlier, you know,” Harrison said tiredly.

                “Where’s the fun in that?”

                “Don’t eat chocolate for a while,” Harrison threatened.

                “Duly noted.”


	7. Harrison Wells

                Harrison didn’t see Norman at all the next day, which was just as well. He was fairly certain if he had seen Norm around he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to punch that man right in the balls for his little tour stunt. He tried not to dwell on Norm’s behavior as he went about his day. First on his list was… having Norm finalize the permits for the accelerator. He skipped that one for now and decided that checking his voicemail would be better. He regretted it immediately as his first message played.

                “Hello, Harrison, this is Dr. Linda Stein at Central City Physical Therapy. You haven’t kept any of your appointments lately and it’s very important for your future health that you continue to come in bi-weekly. That’s twice a week not twice a month. We’re only trying to help, Harrison. Please give us a call at –” He slammed the delete message button a little harder than necessary. Physical therapy left him mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. His employees always complained he was angrier than usual and more prone to chucking things at them in the days following his appointments. They didn’t know he had those appointments, they just knew how he behaved after. It didn’t matter as long as they all got their damn work done and didn’t make him come down to fix their screw ups. With those days, Norman spent the next week un-firing people. Harrison didn’t want to think about Norman right now. The bastard.

                He started to worry about Norman when he didn’t pop in during lunch. When five-thirty hit with no sign, no sight, no sound of Norman he felt an odd twist in his gut. He called. He felt silly for calling, like an over concerned mother when her child is two minutes home late from school, but he couldn’t help himself. It took almost five rings, but Norman answered his cell phone. He sounded slightly out of breath.

                “Are you all right, Norman?” Harrison asked. He didn’t bother hiding the concern in his tone, there wasn’t much point to bravado at this point.

                “Oh,” Norman said, “I was on a run. I must have lost track of time.”

                “Did you run to an entirely different time zone? You can generally keep track of time via the sun,” Harrison said lightly.

                “I own a treadmill.”

                “Right. So you’re fine?”

                “I appreciate the concern, Harrison, but I thought it best to stay away from work for a few days.”

                Harrison sighed. He knew why Norman stayed away. Harrison was more likely to go about destroying Norm’s day than he was to focus on his own work. He felt a little guilty at the thought. Just a little, though.

                “I can return tomorrow, of course,” Norm said off-handedly.

                “I suppose I will head home then,” Harrison said. Was that disappointment in his tone? Yes, it was. Norm would pick up on it, but whether he would say anything was another matter.

                “I will meet you at your home, Harrison. I will stop off at a Big Belly Burger and you can bring those permits you need finalized.”

                “Always one step ahead of me, Norm,” Harrison chuckled.

                “Always.”

                The way Norm said “Always” made Harrison shiver. He ignored it, said his goodbyes, and prepared to go home. He didn’t want to think about the way Norm was off. He was nice enough to him and had saved his life. It seemed wrong to think negatively about a person who had done so much for him. But there were times when Norm’s eyes were cold and hard, his voice sharp and cutting; times Harrison was sure his nice guy act was just that: an act. He often chalked it up to moods, tension in the office, perhaps even tension in Norm’s personal life. Not that Harrison had any insider knowledge of Norm’s life outside of S.T.A.R. Labs. There were days Harrison thought Norm existed solely to get the particle accelerator up and running. He seemed obsessed with the damn thing. Yes, it would provide uncountable breakthroughs in science and the understanding of the universe, but you couldn’t rush these things. Still, even not rushing things, Norm was always one step ahead.

                Always.


	8. Eobard Thawne/Norman Thomas

                Eobard could never reconcile the fact that he enjoyed the company of a dead man. He despised cognitive dissonance; it seemed like a waste of time and effort. Still, he enjoyed Harrison’s company, even as the other man grumped and groused and threw things at him. He was more than fast enough to dodge them, but he took pleasure in the guilt that made that man hunch in his wheelchair after a fit of pique. He kept Harrison humble and honest. And it was entertaining.

                As promised, Eobard delivered Big Belly Burger to a surprisingly hungry Harrison. He probably hadn’t eaten all day. Eobard could relate. There were times he was so caught up in planning Barry’s future he didn’t eat for days, which caused him to basically collapse on the nearest soft surface. Harrison had grown used to finding him passed out on a couch or a cot. He’d lecture Eobard, telling him to monitor his hypoglycemia better and building pity or guilt points with him. He considered keeping a tally of just how many pity points he’d earned with Harrison, but that seemed like far too much effort for something so petty. Then again, he enjoyed pettiness.

                As the two sat down on Harrison’s black suede couch, Eobard struck up conversation.

                “I ordered you a triple-triple,” Eobard said, pulling the carton out of the bag.

                Harrison clapped his hands together. “Best friend,” he said reverently.

                “And fries.”

                “You’re not exactly my type, but I accept your marriage proposal.”

                “You are a very cheap date,” Eobard quipped.

                Harrison already had a mouthful of burger. “Mm-hm.”

                Eobard found he enjoyed cow meat very much. It was a shame they were out of cows in his time. Beef was pleasant and flexible. Perhaps he could take a sample home, clone a few million cows to eat or maybe a half dozen just for himself.

                “Mm, okay,” Harrison said after swallowing his bite. “Particle accelerator paperwork, need you to go over it, give it the ol’ John Hancock, and get it back to me ASAP.”

                “Who’s John Hancock?”

                Harrison’s look asked him if he was stupid. “Refresh yourself on early American history while you’re at it.”

                “That’s not the history that I care for,” Eobard said, offended. There was no point in studying dead people who were even more dead than the people he walked amongst. Their words and lives meant less than nothing to him. He only cared about the history of this era insomuch that it would get him to his goal: getting back home.

                “Yes, yes, you’re more a future man,” Harrison said lightly. He had no idea.

                Eobard simply smiled at him. “Yes. Now, where is the pen?”

                Harrison smacked his lips. “I knew I forgot something. Check my office. You know where it is.”

                “Right.”

                He hated this place sometimes. Not Harrison’s home, Harrison’s home was nice. He wasn’t much for architecture, but he enjoyed the etched glass in the main hallway and the fireplace in the living area was large and warm. The man did seem to keep a bit more glass around than the average person what with an entire section of his house covered with a glass roof. Harrison made no excuses for it, he liked looking up at the stars at night. At times, he’d told Eobard, he imagined Tess watching over him if only to help him sleep at night. Eobard always humored Harrison when it came to Tess. Tess was dead before he saw the pair on the beach and Harrison was only alive thanks to a fit of whimsy on Eobard’s part. Still, if needed to further his goals, he’d kill Harrison and run the company himself.

                When he returned to the living area he found a very full Harrison lounging quietly.

                “Did you eat my fries?” Eobard asked as he made his way to the couch.

                “I tried not to, but they jumped into my mouth and my chewing reflex kicked in,” Harrison said, grinning.

                “Lucky for you, you didn’t eat my burger.”

                “I know how protective you are over your beef. I’d rather not that be written on my tombstone. ‘Killed for eating his friend’s burger.’ Horrid.”

                “Indeed,” Eobard murmured.

                “So,” Harrison said and clapped his hands together, “you find that pen? The future starts with your signature.”

                Eobard grinned. Yes. The future was coming soon. Sooner than any of the corpses inhabiting this planet realized.


	9. Harrison Wells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years later, the particle accelerator goes online for forty-five glorious minutes. Then everything changes.

                Blood. It permeated his nostrils, stinging like lemons burn the eye. He opened his eyes and tried to make sense of what happened. They started the accelerator and everything was fine for forty-five glorious minutes. Then a bang and the ground shook. People ran. People screamed. Alarms screeched and yellow lights strobed caution. Norman was at his side, slapping the keys of his keyboard as if he could stop the chain reaction single handedly. They both hammered at those keys, those damnable keys. Nothing changed. Raymond managed to vent the system up and then he was gone. Then the ground shook mightily as if it might swallow the entire city whole and everything was black.

                He had to get off this floor, but his wheelchair kept him pinned on his stomach with his arms splayed out at either side and he couldn’t quite reach the belt that kept him latched in. He struggled for a few minutes, using his upper body to rock back and forth much like a turtle on its back. He nearly had the thunking timed with the yellow light strobing in the hall when the chair finally thunked over to the side and freed the rest of his body. He quickly unbelted from the chair and used his arms to pull himself out and away. That’s when he caught his first look at the causalities. Harold. Sweet old Harold lying there on the cold floor, a pool of blood surrounding his mostly bald head. Harold Braun, grandfather of seven, great-grandfather to one, dead. An aftershock shook the ground once more and he prayed, albeit very briefly, for someone to help him. No one came. No one came for days. He managed to make his way to the small infirmary attached to the Cortex and lock himself in. He couldn’t bear to look at Harold’s body. Or Janice’s. Or Cindy’s. All dead. All gone because of him. Gone like Tess. He doesn’t talk when the rescue crew finally makes its way to him. They talk amongst themselves, say he must be in shock and prepare him for evacuation. Maybe he was in shock. Death is always a shock. Failure is always a shock. Death because of his failure was the ultimate shock to his system. Who else died because of him? What would the dark matter expelled by his failure do to the people of this city?

                The fresh, crisp air of the outside world burned his lungs, the sun fried his retinas, but he didn’t speak of his discomfort, he simply inhaled more and opened his eyes wider. Pain was the only thing that made sense.

                He finally escaped the hospital two days later. He forcibly discharged himself into his own care. He had to get away. S.T.A.R. Labs was all over the news. It seemed to be the only thing the television focused on. He couldn’t even escape into a cruddy soap opera. Everything was preempted by new reports, new scientists giving their two cents, new analysts decrying the particle accelerator. He heard doctors, patients, and visitors alike talk about the horrors of that night, who died, who was injured, and how irresponsible the entire S.T.A.R. Labs crew was. It was so easy for them to judge after the fact. It was so easy for them to place blame, so easy for them to throw the names of the dead around to bolster their pithy little arguments. Everything was so easy for those who weren’t there, those who didn’t spend years and years and thousands of hours on that accelerator.

                The ride home was quiet. Norm had finally appeared after nearly a week of radio silence. He wisely kept his mouth shut the second he spotted Harrison. Harrison didn’t know if it was the hard lines etched in his face or the sadness shining in his eyes, but Norm kept quiet and barely looked at him. It didn’t matter. He just wanted to go home.

                When he finally made it home, he found his house absolutely surrounded by the media and angry people with signs. Par for the course, he supposed. He quietly wheeled his way through the crowd with Norm at his side deflecting cameras, microphones, and people brave enough to jump in his way. It wasn’t until a shot rang out that the crowd dispersed, screaming and ducking. Home was no longer safe.

                Norm collapsed at his side, gripping his stomach. Blood. So much blood. He grabbed for Norm, pulling at him until his body was mostly over Harrison’s legs.

                “Norm,” he said softly. He tried not to panic. He tried to swallow the fear rising from deep within him. “Hold on.”

                “Don’t let me die, Harrison,” Norm said, his voice strained. “Don’t let me die.”

                “Never,” Harrison breathed. It was hard and slow, but Harrison wheeled them to relative safety. He only hoped the gunman was dealt with, because bushes could only protect them so much. And if Norm died – if Norm died he would truly be alone. Fear clutched his heart. He didn’t want to be alone.


	10. Eobard Thawne/Norman Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lightning strikes.

                Eobard hated waking up sore. Usually it was an indicator that he and the Flash had fought yet again and, yet again, only kicked each other in the ass a few times before one of them escaped. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had another battle with Barry. Instead, he’s been shot by an ordinary person out for ordinary revenge with an ordinary gun. How uncivilized. Honestly, who shot at a man in a wheelchair and managed to hit the person next to him instead? The people of this time were untrained idiots. He’d kill whoever shot him later. For now, he needed to get information on the boy who would be the Flash very, very soon.

                “You’re awake,” Harrison said as he rolled into the infirmary.

                “You’re perceptive,” Eobard as Norman groused.

                “You’re grumpy,” Harrison quipped.

                “How intuitive.” Where was Barry Allen?

                Harrison stared at him with pity. Ugh. Now came the talk.

                “A young man named Barry Allen contacted me. Do you remember him?”

                He nearly gasped. How could he ever forget Barry Allen? They had been fighting for centuries. This was it. This was Barry’s awakening as the Flash, Barry’s reveal. Oh, he had such grand plans. Such grand plans!

                “He told me about his best friend, Iris West. There’s a chance she was –” Harrison paused as if gathering his thoughts. Eobard waited impatiently. “—affected. The explosion seeded the storm clouds above us.” He knew this already. “She was struck.” Oh, _fuck_. “She’s been in a coma since the explosion. I’d like to bring her here. I have a feeling we can handle the changes no doubt taking place in her body.”

                “No,” he whispered hoarsely. All that planning. All that time. And he **missed** Barry Allen. He missed him. The boy was an easy target! Then he remembered. Iris had popped in to check on Barry that night. She was next to him as he pulled the chain to close the loft windows. The video feed had blanked out after the lightning struck.

                Oh, Speed Force, what had he done?


	11. Harrison Wells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison speaks to his number one fan boy and the lightning chooses its host.

                Life was strange. An understatement by any measurement, but for Harrison he’d run out of ways to describe it. He knew his life would never be the same after the particle accelerator explosion, but this was too much. He now had a girl in a coma in the Cortex and a boy visiting her every day. He often came alone, making excuses as to why he stayed so long. Harrison didn’t care why he was here or how long he stayed, the boy stayed mostly out of his way, only bothering him when the girl, Iris, seemed to give off an electric discharge or two. He’d never witnessed it in person, but the boy was adamant that these discharges were happening and targeting him and that he felt strange after each one. Norman took an almost unhealthy interest in this discharge scenario. Harrison couldn’t blame him, really. After the explosion work dried up, investigators were everywhere, there were protestors, and he’d been shot. Anyone would dive into whatever work they would find given those circumstances and it wasn’t as if that man actually stayed down when he should. He seemed to ignore pain, ignore anything that got in his way.

                Harrison was drawn from his thoughts by a knock on his office door.

                “Dr. Wells?” queried a male voice.

                “Come in, Mr. Allen,” Harrison replied. Probably here for a progress report.

                The boy poked his head in. “Uh, hey, hi. Do you know, uh, where Mr. Thomas went to? He told me to check in with him if I got shocked by Iris again and I – I just did and it was pretty big and I’m feeling really, really weird right now. And stuff is moving in, like, slow motion and, uh, that’s – that’s weird.”

                Harrison briefly wondered if the boy was stuttering because of the weird changes he was experiencing or because he was “such a fan, oh my god” of Harrison Wells.

                “He may be resting, Mr. Allen,” he said. Harrison gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

                Either Harrison was losing his mind or that boy absolutely flew into that seat faster than he could blink.

                “Oh, no, you’re giving me a look. It’s bad isn’t it? Oh, god. I’m going to die,” the boy said, obviously panicking.

                Harrison held up his hand. “Calm down, Mr. Allen.”

                “Barry.”

                “What?”

                “You can just call me Barry. I mean, if that’s cool with you. You don’t have to. Mr. Allen is also fine. Anything is fine.”

                “Right.” Harrison studied Barry for a moment. He was jittery, almost vibrating out of his seat. If Norman’s hypothesis was correct, he was slowly absorbing whatever the lightning had unleashed and transforming. It made sense that he would be affected to, since he and Miss West had been so close to one another when the lightning struck. What didn’t make sense was how this lightning or power or whatever it was, was moving from one person to another. Perhaps Barry was the better host and the lightning had gained some form of sentience thanks to the dark matter the accelerator released. It didn’t matter, really. “We’ll have to start running tests, Mister… Barry.”

                “Cool!” Barry said excitedly. “I mean, that’s great, sir. Dr. Wells. Sir. Great.”

                Yes, just great.


	12. Iris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris awakens.

                “She should wake up any moment now.”

                Wake up? Was she sleeping? Ooh, boy, why was she so – god, why is her arm so – ugh, where is she? Iris slowly opens her eyes, god the lids are heavy, and – shit, it’s bright as hell in her room.

                “There she is.”

                Who the hell is in her room?

                “Oh, my God, Iris.” That’s definitely her dad. Oh, God he’s so heavy. Why is he hugging her in her bed in her room?

                “Wuh?” she asks. It’s all she can manage through the heaviness in her body and fog clouding her mind.

                “I’ll give you two a moment.”

                “Thank you so much, Dr. Wells,” her dad says to the other voice. “Thank you.”

                “It was no trouble at all, Detective West.”

                “Joe.”

                “Right.”

                Joe brushes his hand over her forehead and hair just like he did when she was a little girl. It’s comforting and familiar. Finally, her eyes adjust to the brightness and she takes in her father’s much paler face, the deep bags under his eyes, and the bloodshot sclera in his normally white and healthy eyes.

                “Dad?” she asks, her voice low and rough. “What happened?”

                “You were struck by lightning, baby, in Barry’s lab. I thought –” he stops and clears his throat. She knows he wants to cry. “I thought you were gone. Dr. Wells and his partner Norman Thomas offered to bring you here. Norman was quite sure he could help you and Wells, well, he felt responsible since it was his damn accelerator that did this to you.”

                “Dad, what –” she starts.

                “I’ll explain more later. Rest now. Really rest. I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

                She closes her eyes and dreams of lightning and running and leather speed suits. She’ll remember nothing when she wakes again.


End file.
